Flying Motorcycles
by EmruasCat
Summary: Sam Witwicky needs a distraction. Harry Potter unknowingly performs magic in front of a certain pair of trouble-making Autobot twins. Perhaps Sam shouldn't have opened his mouth.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or Harry Potter; I make no money from the writing of this fanfiction.

Warnings: This story contains SLASH – this is defined as _boy/boy_ or _girl/girl _romantic relationships. If this offends you, please do not read any further.

*This story follows Harry Potter canon up to and including _Order of the Phoenix, _and most of _Transformers_ and _Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen_. The pieces that are missing from the second movie will become apparent almost immediately.

A comment: The plots of _Half-Blood Prince_ and _Deathly Hallows_ do not exist in my little world. As well, I know very little about mechanics, so anything specific that you read in this story is pretty much going to be made up off the top of my head or very vague; apologies in advance to nitpickers. On the other hand, if any of you guys out there are motorcycle buffs, I would more than welcome pointers on engine types, speed, durability, etc. Just don't kill me if what I write isn't exact ;)

Chapter 1

It started with Sirius' motorcycle.

Actually, to be fair, Harry would have to say it started when Buckbeak attacked Sirius' motorcycle, and Harry hastily let the hippogriff go, cutting his leash on the edge of a magical nature reserve in Spain. Harry returned to Grimmauld Place to a massive scolding from the Order of the Phoenix, having snuck out in order to free the creature.

It was the summer after Harry's sixth year, and incidentally the summer following Harry's sudden, instant, and even immediate decapitation of Lord Snakeface when the former Dark Lord had broken into a training area that Harry and some friends (read: DA) had warded close to the Forbidden Forest at the end of the school year. After a year of training in rage following his godfather's death, Harry had swung Gryffindor's sword first and thrown a victory party after. Harry had also told Dumbledore point-blank that if he dared send Harry back to the Dursleys, Harry would run away, escaped Death Eaters be damned. The result of this little conversation (screaming match) had Harry staying in Grimmauld Place for the summer instead of his Aunt and Uncle's. In Harry's opinion, it was not much of an improvement, but at least the wards kept the rabid fans and reporters out.

About halfway through the scolding, Harry left the kitchen, dimly hearing Mrs. Weasley screeching for him to come back and not caring. He went up the stairs to Sirius' former room, where the damaged motorcycle was. He locked the door behind him and warded it for good measure before going to Sirius' bed and reaching under the mattress for the manual he knew was kept there. During the Christmas break of his fifth year, Sirius had begun to teach him some basic mechanics with the intent of buying Harry a motorcycle of his own. As his hand closed over the old book, Harry felt the all-too-familiar lump in his throat, and swallowed harshly. His fault Sirius wasn't there to teach him all the little tricks Harry was sure weren't in the manual. . .

Harry swiped hard at his eyes and reached for the tool kit, hoping the manual would be able to tell him what to do. As he did so, his eyes fell upon a pile of travel brochures Sirius had left in the room. His godfather had shown them to him, swearing that one day soon they'd take a trip wherever Harry felt like going, just the two of them.

Sam held 7-month-old Annabelle Lennox in his lap with surprising ease. The first time her proud father had held the baby out to Sam, the boy had panicked and swiftly found a reason to flee the vicinity. The next time, Will Lennox had forced Sam onto a couch, plunked the baby in Sam's lap, and said, "Annabelle, this is Sam. Sam, this is Annabelle. Play nice, you two!" before merrily leaving Sam to his own devices for a few minutes.

Annabelle liked Sam holding her, and though she was just a little too young to talk yet she had shown definite favoritism whenever Sam visited the Lennox home, by reaching for Sam whenever he was in the room, screaming if she wasn't immediately handed over to him, and smiling like an angel as soon as she was. The only other person she reacted to in this manner, amusingly enough, was Ironhide. She would coo and clap her hands when the old Cybertronian soldier transformed in front of her, not scared of the massive being in the least. Ironhide had proven himself to be a complete softy where Annabelle was concerned, much to the amusement of Will.

It did not amuse Sarah Lennox. The first time Sam had met the woman, his immediate thought had been that she had to be at least as brave and strong as Will was – and she was gorgeous on top of that. Will definitely had good taste. That impression had not lessened, but accompanying it now was the knowledge that Sarah Lennox was very stubborn and very set in her ways – which wasn't always a good thing when dealing with giant alien robots that could change the local scenery in a matter of seconds by aiming a rocket canon at it. Sarah did not want the baby around Ironhide, did not want soldiers guarding her private property, and was not happy about the fact that Annabelle favored Sam so much, when Sam was the one responsible (in Sarah's eyes) for introducing Will to giant alien robots.

Sam winced as Sarah's voice rose in response to Will's frustrated tone. This was not the first fight between the couple that he'd had to tune out. He closed the door to the nursery, which blocked most of the sound, and turned on the stereo which currently had an MP3 player connected to it. Piano music started playing, and after a few strains Sam recognized it as Mozart – which was more than what he had been capable of recognizing seven months ago. Ironhide had downloaded a ton of piano and symphonic music into the MP3 player, insisting in a gruff tone that music was documented to help with mental development in the very young. Which was true enough, but it had made Sam and Will laugh because the cranky old mech had obviously pulled his information, when he quoted it, from an online _Baby and Me_ article. Will had mocked Ironhide for days for being a sap.

Annabelle cooed and offered Sam a toy ring that had several brightly-colored fish dangling from it. Sam took it and danced the fish in front of her eyes, making her laugh. As he entertained the baby, Sam thought to himself that it was kind of pathetic that he was hiding in a nursery.

_She hadn't said it_.

Sam had come home to his parents' house at the end of his first year of college, and Mikaela had not been waiting for him. Sam had ignored his parents' wondering comments with a feeling of guilty relief that a confrontation hadn't happened. Mikaela had called and visited his parents' house a few times since, but each conversation had been strained and each meeting filled with awkward silences. They were drifting apart, and Sam didn't know how to stop it.

In the end, when he'd been dying, and the Primes had given him the Matrix of Leadership, Sam had needed Mikaela to say the words he couldn't yet – the ones they'd been teasing each other about for months prior to the shitstorm that was the Fallen. He'd needed that security, that knowledge that was beyond anything that stupid shard of the Cube could have dumped into his mind. He'd been brave and strong for nearly everyone else; he'd needed someone else to be braver and stronger.

_She hadn't said it_. By all reports that Will and his fellow soldiers had given Sam, she'd screamed his name, cursed the Decepticons, begged Sam not to give up – but she hadn't said _I love you_ when the soldiers were frantically trying to revive Sam, hadn't said it when the Primes sent Sam back.

It had hurt. It hadn't really registered at first, what with the frantic cover-up once more of existence of aliens and getting Sam off the FBI's wanted list and reinstating him in school. But after, when Sam had kept an appointment for a video-chat date and she hadn't because of an emergency in her father's shop, it had registered, and it had hurt. And then the doubts had set in.

Doubts about himself, mostly. Was he not good enough for her? A lot of the time, Sam didn't see how he was – she was beautiful, and brave, and loved cars and motorcycles, and was genuinely made of kick-ass awesome. She had asked him repetitively for the words, and he'd never said them, too embarrassed or too afraid or too…something. He should have been strong enough, confident enough, _cool_ enough to say the words without any fear.

Sam had most of Christmas break and all of his first spring semester to fret. But as much as he was down on himself, he also couldn't help but worry that maybe Mikaela didn't feel as strongly as he did. The physical pull was there, and encountering giant alien robots together was a hell of an introduction. But Mikaela hadn't, and wouldn't, say the words – and one of Sam's favorite things about Mikaela was that she was honest, and very blunt about her moods. Keeping that in mind, Sam had a true fear that while Mikaela obviously cared about him, she might not be in love with him, might not have even admitted it to herself, simply because their relationship was like nothing either of the two had ever experienced, giant alien robots not withstanding.

Avoiding his parents' house and Mikaela's chop shop was probably not what he should be doing, but after a semester of miserable doubt, Sam didn't have the courage for a confrontation with the first person he'd ever truly been in love with. The first time he'd asked Bumblebee for a distraction, the yellow bot had asked if he minded riding with him to the Lennox homestead, as Bumblebee needed to meet with Ironhide for a weapons upgrade. Sam had tagged along and greeted Will easily enough. The soldier had looked tired and frustrated, and relieved to have a visitor distract him. Sam had fled from the baby that time, and a week later when Bumblebee dragged him out to the Lennox home again (Sam later suspected an evil plot), Will had mocked him for being scared of a baby before pinning him down and forcing him to hold Annabelle.

Sam's visits had settled into a pattern of twice, sometimes three times a week. Bumblebee would drop him off and go chat with Ironhide, or wander off on his own. Sarah had asked why he visited so often once, but before he could sputter out an answer, Will had intervened and told her that it was alright with him, as he could sucker Sam into babysitting for free and give the two parents a couple of hours to take a break. Sam had rolled his eyes and Sarah had laughed, the situation defused before Sam could become massively embarrassed. Will had never asked Sam anything outright, but if Sarah didn't want Sam to watch Annabelle that day, then Will quietly found stuff around the house for Sam to give him a hand with, or he worked with the boy in self-defense lessons.

Annabelle grabbed the toy keyring from Sam's hand and waved it enthusiastically, accidentally smacking him in the face and making him wince as the hard plastic made contact. "Okay kiddo, new toy," he muttered, taking the keyring from her and snagging a teddy bear off the ground that was, oddly enough, dyed bright green. "How about teddy?" He waggled the green…thing in front of her. She laughed, accepted the stuffed animal from him – and promptly threw it across the room.

Sam sighed. When Annabelle was in a throwing mood, no toy was safe. And it really was pathetic that he'd rather pick up the toys she threw than go home to his parents' invasive questions and an all-too-silent cell phone.

AN: I am not pairing Sam and Will together, nor have I decided if I want to break up Sarah and Will's marriage. I think there's potential either way with them, because I'm of the opinion that a woman doesn't marry a soldier without being at least as strong and brave as he is, because it's the woman who gets left behind – but is Sarah's courage enough in this case? I haven't truly decided on any pairings for this story, so let me know in reviews what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or Harry Potter; I make no money from the writing of this fanfiction.

Warnings: This story contains SLASH – this is defined as _boy/boy_ or _girl/girl _romantic relationships. If this offends you, please do not read any further.

*This story follows Harry Potter canon up to and including _Order of the Phoenix, _and most of _Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen_. The pieces that are missing from the movie will become apparent almost immediately.

A comment: The plots of _Half-Blood Prince_ and _Deathly Hallows_ do not exist in my little world. As well, I know very little about mechanics, so anything specific that you read in this story is pretty much going to be made up off the top of my head or very vague; apologies in advance to nitpickers. On the other hand, if any of you guys out there are motorcycle buffs, I would more than welcome pointers on engine types, speed, durability, etc. Just don't kill me if what I write isn't exact ;)

Chapter 2

Harry had managed to fix some of the damage to the motorcycle, but not enough. He looked through the instruction manual, and found the company it originally came from. It was located in America. The contact information included a Floo address and an actual muggle telephone number. It had been more than two decades since Sirius had bought the motorcycle, but Harry figured he had to try.

It was a week before he turned seventeen, and Harry was by and large ready for it. When he turned seventeen, all of Sirius' estate would be fully transferred to him – including Grimmauld Place. His first act would be to close the London townhouse to everyone but Remus, Hermione, and the Weasley twins. He and Ron had had yet another fight, and Harry wasn't in the mood to listen to yet another condescending talk from Dumbledore or Molly Weasley about making up with him. Harry felt bad about Hermione being caught in the middle again, but after six years of school with Ron, she should have known what she was getting into when she decided to try dating him shortly after Moldy-shorts' defeat. He had a feeling the dating thing wouldn't last much longer; excluding the nearly constant fights with Harry, Ron was being a jerk to Hermione – and she was _not_ one to stand for it – resulting in fights between them as well.

Harry found a fireplace in a room out of the way, and tossed in the requisite extra amount of Floo powder that was required to make a Floo call long-distance.

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Sideswipe twitched as Mudflap and Skids started yelling at each other again. He'd been stuck on this cursed ball of dirt for several human months now, and never before had he missed his twin, Sunstreaker, as much as he did at this moment. Not only did 'Flap and Skids give Cybertronian twins everywhere a bad name, they'd pranked the human military on the base so much that they were now assigned a babysitter during daylight hours – which Sideswipe was unfortunate enough to be stuck doing, as he'd pissed off Ironhide with a smart-assed comment about his human. And the pranks that Skids and Flap got up to were _boring_, just stuff like switching equipment around and jumping around corners and shouting "Boo!" He and Sunstreaker were _far_ better pranksters than the ghetto-punk-wannabes, but they'd never get a chance to demonstrate if Sunstreaker didn't _get his bleeding arse_ over to Earth!

Sideswipe had been watching British films out of sheer boredom lately, and found that he preferred their accent to that of the Americans, and filtered it into his English speech, much to the amusement of the soldiers.

Sideswipe thought longingly of the target range that Ironhide had set up. When he wasn't plotting pranks with his twin, his favorite thing to do was blow things up, preferably in as loud and as messy a manner as possible. Actually…

"Skids, Mudflap!" he called sharply.

The ghetto-fied Transformers stopped their argument momentarily to call back, "Yo?"

"Let's go to the target range. I want to blow something up!"

The twins agreed, but promptly starting arguing over who would create the biggest explosion. Sideswipe sighed out loud, grabbed each twin by the arm, and started dragging them towards the range. He should learn not to make teasing comments about Ironhide's human.

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Harry sat back on his heels, and contemplated the information that the repair company had given him for a long moment. The motorcycle could be repaired, but the flying and safety charms were nearly two decades out of date; the bike needed a major magical overhaul. The full repair and magical updates would take a month, at the very least.

Harry's gaze strayed to the travel pamphlets sitting on his bedside table. He hadn't really wanted to go to Hogwarts this year anyway.

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A sudden spew of violent Cybertronian language had Sam jumping, Annabelle laughing as she was jolted in his arms. Sam was sitting on the porch swing with the baby, Ironhide pulled up close to the house for once because Sarah was out running errands. Bumblebee, also close by, was strangely silent for a moment, before similar Cybertronian sounds began to pour from the normally cheerful yellow car.

"Uh, guys?" Sam called uncomfortably over the sounds. "I'm not catching all of that, but I'm pretty sure that's not language that should be used around a little kid." Following Sam's experience with Cybertronian technology possessing him, Sam had suddenly found many school subjects easier for him, languages among them. He could read the Cybertronian written language very easily, and understood a fair amount of the spoken, though there were still many times that he got lost. Some of the newly-arrived Autobots, the ones that hadn't been around for any of the battles involving Sam, were leery of a human having such ready access to their files and technology; Ironhide's canons and Optimus Prime's energy blades had 'mysteriously' caused all complaints to stop, much to Sam's mixed embarrassment and amusement.

Ironhide transformed right there in the Lennox's front yard, causing Sam's eyes to go wide and Annabelle to squeal in absolute glee. The giant robot knelt down and proceeded to bang his head several times on the ground, causing a minor earthquake. Sam staggered, nearly being thrown off the porch swing. When Annabelle made an unhappy sound, Sam decided enough was enough.

"Hide! You're scaring Annabelle!"

Ironhide stopped banging his head on the ground, but remained kneeling with his head bowed and his fists clenched, weapons humming.

"Bumblebee?" Sam asked, bewildered. Bee responded with a low moan that sounded just as despondent as Ironhide's posture looked. Sam glared at his two large friends. "What the he – heck, guys?" he demanded, catching himself just in time from uttering a 'bad' word in front of Annabelle.

Bee gave a half-hearted snigger at Sam's stumble, then let out a long, mournful sigh. "There's another New Arrival."

Sam frowned. New Arrivals were normally a cause for celebration amongst the Autobots. He glanced at Ironhide, who was muttering Cybertronian curses in a steady stream under his breath. "Sooooo…"

Sam could see Bumblebee cringing, even though his yellow friend hadn't transformed like Ironhide. "It's – it's –"

"That miserable, paint-splashing, 'Con fragging – "

"Hide!" Sam snapped, hastily clapping his hands over Annabelle's ears; the baby made an inquisitive sound. "Little ears!"

"Little what?" Ironhide asked, puzzled and momentarily distracted from his misery by yet another strange human phrase.

Sam could practically hear Bumblebee rolling his eyes as the yellow car explained, "Sam doesn't want you to curse in front of Annabelle."

"Then why didn't he just _say_ that?"

"Ironhide," Sam said sharply, determined to stay on topic. "Why is the New Arrival a bad thing?"

Ironhide let out a feral growl that made the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand on end, then spat out a series of Cybertronian syllables that had Sam puzzled.

He concentrated a moment, then asked in confusion, "Sun lightspeed streaker?"

"Sunstreaker is the more coherent translation, and the name of the New Arrival," Bumblebee sighed out.

"He's Sideswipe's twin," Ironhide growled, shifting from a kneeling position to sitting flat on his rear, pressing a hand to his head and moaning.

Sam frowned. "Isn't this good? Sideswipe's been moping for months about his twin." He didn't know the cocky fighter as well as he did some of the other Autobots, but he liked Side's sarcastic humor and irreverent manner of speaking. Annabelle squirmed in Sam's grip, and he set her down on the ground, where she promptly toddled in Ironhide's direction. Sam smirked a little as the Weapons Specialist put down a hand and picked up the baby without a second's thought.

"Sam," Bumblebee began in a pained tone. "Do you think that Skids and Flap are annoying?"

Sam cocked his head at his friend. "You know I do. That ghetto language thing they've got going on is really headache-inducing, and the pranks are just stupid sometimes."

"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe together make Skids and Flap look like _Annabelle_," Ironhide said, lifting his head and scowling at the baby as if it were her fault she was so adorable. Annabelle patted 'Hide's thumb and kissed it, and the Weapons Specialist's face visibly softened.

Sam coughed to keep from laughing, and Ironhide transferred his glare to the older human. "You don't _know_, boy. They've blown up my training areas, painted the official escort ships pink, stolen Ratchet's tools and hung them from the ceilings of sacred meeting rooms, locked Ratchet and Optimus Prime in a closet together, and those are just the pranks they used when they were being nice."

Sam's eyes widened when Bumblebee made an unhappy, but agreeing sound. "So…when does this Sunstreaker land?"

"He's due for landfall July thirty-first," Ironhide growled. "I refuse to be on the continent when he gets here."

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Harry read over the latest missive from his goblin advisor at Gringotts and nodded in satisfaction. He had a flight scheduled for Las Vegas, Nevada the day of his birthday. Harry was going to spend his birthday week gambling and doing what he pleased. He had arranged for all of the money he spent to come from the Lestrange vault, which he had inherited by default when the murderers were caught and killed; Bellatrix was a Black, and Harry was named Sirius's heir.

It still amused him, in a bitter fashion, to know that Sirius had been the outcast of the Black family, but had never actually been expelled from said family, and so as the last male descendent had been default Lord until he died. Harry was actually a Black through his grandmother on his father's side, Dorea Black, so the title was legitimate and more than an honorary motion from his deceased godfather. He thought Sirius would appreciate Harry blowing the Lestrange fortune on gambling and alcohol (when he could get his hands on it).

A knock on the study door made him look up. "Come in," he called, a little curious as to who was actually courteous enough to knock. Everyone else that currently had access to the house barged in where they pleased; that would soon stop, Harry thought with satisfaction.

Remus walked in, and glanced at the note from the goblins with a faint smile. "Everything set up, cub?" Remus was the only one, other than the Weasley twins, to know of Harry's plans for his birthday. He hadn't even told Hermione about Vegas, not wanting a lecture on irresponsibility.

Harry nodded. "You'll take care of the house while I'm gone, won't you?" At Remus' surprised look, Harry said, "Sirius always wanted you here, Remus, and my opinion isn't any different. As far as I'm concerned, this is your home whenever you want it."

"Cub…" Remus began.

"Moony," Harry countered. Remus' gaze softened, and he came over to Harry and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. After a long moment, Harry said quietly, "I need someone I can trust here to look after my interests while I'm gone. Fred and George have their own business to worry about, and Hermione's good, but she doesn't understand pureblood business intricacies." Remus had been the one to guide Harry in looking after his family's assets when Harry had first been made aware of them by an irritated goblin who wanted to know why the Potter wealth was just sitting in the vaults festering. "You might see about ruining Rita Skeeter's life for me – I would consider that an awesome birthday present."

Remus snorted. "What's she written now?"

"Apparently I'm going to marry Ginny Weasley and have lots of little red-haired children and give Ginny all of the Potter family jewelry, of which there is much," Harry said in a flat tone. "She listed several specific items of jewelry that Ginny might be interested; I'm rather curious to know where she got her information, as I know the goblins didn't give it to her." The goblins, as a rule, hated Skeeter.

Remus winced. Ginny was a sore spot for Harry, and had been for a long time. Harry had tried to be friends with Ron's little sister, but the chit was too obsessed him with the idea of the Boy-Who-Lived to care about the actual Harry. Her stalking and jealous reactions had endangered several members of the DA, and if there was one thing Harry couldn't forgive, it was the deliberate endangering of people under his protection. "I'll see what I can do, cub."

Harry leaned back in his chair and stretched with a sigh. "Just one more week," he muttered, and Remus squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

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"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SUNSTREAKER'S GOING TO BE HERE IN A WEEK?" Ratchet's shriek could be heard through the base, and every Autobot present cringed. The medic was the favorite target of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker; the news that the twins were soon to be reunited had him _pissed_. Most of the Autobots decided they needed to find other places to be on July thirty-first.


End file.
